Birthmark
by snowflakesanddandelions
Summary: Loosely based on The Phantom of the Opera (2004 movie). Warning- everybody is somewhat out of character kind of on purpose, especially Christine. I won't spoil the ending.


_Dear new owners of the Opera House,_

_I hope this note finds you well. I am the Phantom that watches over this opera in exchange for my fee, which allows me to live and direct events behind the scenes. You will do well to continue paying me. I require 283 per month, which may be left in an envelope in my box. It is the one on the far right and must be left empty at all times. _

_The Phantom of the Opera_

８

I could feel my heart thumping. There was no way I could get up in front of thousands of people and sing Carlotta's part. We didn't even have the same range.

I did love the song. At least when Carlotta wasn't singing it. She sort of made it sound pointless to me, like the beauty of the song was lost in the detail. I'd sung it in my room, quietly, and I'd listened, of course, when she was practicing- we all did. But I couldn't sing it like her, and that was what I thought the audience must want.

"Think of me, angel," I whispered. I'd rather be singing this only for his ears, no matter how much he might critique my efforts, but I had no choice. I was pushed onto the stage to sing the last song.

I sang it transposed to a key that fit my range better, and I didn't add all the fluttery notes Carlotta had insisted on adding. She was such a drama queen. I closed my eyes and pretended the crowd didn't exist. I pretended the room was totally empty, and I was singing to- oh, maybe my crush from back when I was five, Raoul. Silly crush, but it made the song more personal, and soon I felt like my heart was singing and not my throat. Tears came to my eyes, and it was actually a surprise to me when the applause at the end of the song brought me back to where I actually was- singing in the actual opera, not my bit part, but the lead role. I managed one graceful bow before I fled the stage, cheeks red and stomach surging. People were throwing flowers. It was cute, but I just wanted to get out of there.

Someone managed to get to my dressing room door and knock. I paid no mind, eager to get out of my uncomfortable dress and into my nightie. They kept on knocking and knocking, and finally I opened the door with a grand sigh.

"Hello," I said. I didn't recognise the man at first.

"Christine? I had to come and find you. That was so beautiful."

He shoved about three dozen white roses into my arms. I took them.

"Thank you?" I said hesitantly. "This is a lot of roses. I don't know how I'll find vases for them all."

"I'm sorry, I should have thought of that," he said, smiling. "I'll buy you some vases. I'm sure you could use them."

It took me a second to realize what he was saying, and I blushed. "I'm sure I'm not that popular. I only sang the lead because Carlotta refused."

He curled my hair behind my ear. I moved away slightly.

"Um, it's been nice talking to you," I said, about to shut the door in his face.

"Wait! Christine, don't you recognise me? It's me, Raoul," he said.

Raoul? I hadn't seen him since he was under 10. No wonder he seemed a little familiar.

"We've both grown up, haven't we," I said.

"Yeah, we should go to dinner and catch up," he said eagerly. I frowned.

"I don't know, my Angel's kind of possessive," I hedged.

Raoul laughed. "Is that, like, a music thing? It's cute. So, dinner?"

I studied him. He didn't look terribly threatening, and I supposed it could be fun to catch up. "Alright."

"Great. I'll pick up you in five minutes," Raoul said.

８

"Christine, what were you thinking? I don't like this," the Angel told me.

"He's my old friend," I tried. "I'm sure it's okay."

"I don't want you going. I don't like this at all. One song, and he wants to date you now? You don't know how he grew up. I know you haven't seen him in the fifteen years since your father died."

"But I told him I was going. He gave me a lot of flowers."

"Yes, flowers, such a sign of his enduring love. He'd probably completely forgotten you until today. I won't allow you to go out and ruin your voice with alcohol and staying up late."

I scowled. "You don't know him."

His voice softened. "And neither do you, Christine. Come with me instead, if you want a break from your singing. I'll show you where I live, under the Opera. Why I hide and no one sees my true face."

"Fine," I agreed. "I'll ask Meg to tell Raoul I can't go."

Meg giggled from the other room.

"Christine, are you talking to your imaginary boyfriend again? Yes, I'll give Raoul your excuse. Maybe he'll go out with me instead."

"Shut up about my imaginary boyfriend," I told her. "I told you he's not imaginary."

"Are you serious?" Meg asked. "Do you, like, hear voices and stuff?"

"Never anyone but my angel. And he's not imaginary. He gives me voice lessons. How else do you think I've gotten so much better so fast?"

"Well, it wasn't from listening to Carlotta," Meg laughed. "I think you just got better from practicing in the middle of the night with your imaginary booyyyfrieeend."

Now I laughed. "He's not my boyfriend and he's not imaginary." _He has a pretty nice voice though. Admit it, Christine._

I said goodnight to Meg and went to my room, letting my hair down and tying it back in a loose ponytail and putting on my favorite slipper socks.

"Are you ready?" the Angel asked me.

"I guess," I said, not sure what I was being asked to be ready for.

"Look in the mirror."

I looked in the mirror and jumped in shock. There he was, my angel in the mirror behind me. I turned and there he was. He was cute, with dark hair and dark eyes contrasting with a white mask that covered half his face. His clothes were attractive and well-cut, if a bit dusty.

"Hi," I said, since I couldn't think what else to say. "Um, how did you do that?"

He smirked. "I can be quiet when I want to. Or it's magic."

"Yeah, magic," I scoffed. "Magic like you're in my room without permission, Angel."

He scowled, and I gave in, because dang, that scowl was so unnecessarily handsome.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

"Yup, I'm all ready."

He grinned at my slipper socks.

"You realize those are either going to get very dusty and possibly wet, or you're going to spend an awful lot of time in my arms?"

"Seriously? It's just a basement."

The mischievous glint in his eye was a bit unnerving.

"Your decision," he taunted, disappearing. I had to follow quickly to keep up with the sound of his footsteps, and I was afraid I was lost a few times.

We came to a giant pool of honestly not-that-great-smelling sludge and a small boat.

"I warned you," he said silkily.

"This is so not just a basement," I said, a bit dismayed.

He seemed to be enjoying my reaction.

"I told you," he said, scooping me up and helping me into the boat before getting in. He was pretty graceful; it barely rocked at all. The euphoria of being in close proximity to- okay, I'll admit it, my crush- made a strange combination with the nausea from the gross-smelling sludge.

"It better not all be like this," I said.

I could almost hear his grin. "It won't."

The sludge boat ride was taking a super long time, so we ended up singing something. Except he decided it was improv time and added all these somewhat suggestive lines to our old song that we, like, always sing. The song ended perfectly just as we arrived at a- do I call it a beach? No. A cement underground beach is not a beach. OK, fine, I'll call it a beach. There were all these candles and roses practically everywhere. And pianos. Not even kidding, he had at least five pianos in my field of vision. I'd known music was a big thing for him, but- five pianos.

"You planning to expand your class size or something?" I asked.

"I need five pianos," he whined.

"Yeah, but five pianos."

"Don't question me."

"I'm not questioning you, I'm questioning the pianos," I told him.

"Don't question the pianos."

He threw the pole onto the dry cement and hopped out. For a moment I had a mini heart attack that I was going to drift away and one of us would have to do some unpleasant swimming, but then he pulled the boat up onto land and helped me climb off. I may have hung onto his arm slightly longer than necessary. Maybe.

We had a quick music lesson because, I don't know, it's our idea of fun, and then he showed me around a little bit. I didn't realize how sleepy I was getting until he tucked into a spare bed and I dropped right off.

８

I woke up late and tired after the opera last night, to the sound of my Angel softly singing in the background. Totally normal- except that I wasn't in my bed and everything smelled a lot like roses and a little like a sewer. I opened my eyes and sat up suddenly. Most of the candles had burned lower or been replaced, but there was enough light. I got up, sighing when I saw that my slipper-socks were now greenish-brown on the bottom, and meandered until I found him. I'd always wanted to track him down, and now here he was, as beautiful to me as his voice.

"Morning," I said, conscious of my groggy morning voice.

"Good morning, Christine," he returned.

I glanced at the sewage, trying to tell what he was seeing in its chunky green depths, but I saw nothing worth staring at.

"Angel?" I asked, hoping to redirect his attention.

"I said good morning already."

Geez, did he need his coffee or something?

"Well, I guess I should go back up and have breakfast," I said guiltily.

"Why? You can eat down here with me," he said.

"They'll be looking for me."

"I want to keep you here," he insisted.

I couldn't come up with a great rebuttal to that.

"Angel-"

"Phantom. I'm the phantom of the opera," he said. "I'm no angel."

_But Phantom is not a cute nickname_.

"Why do you have half a mask?" I asked curiously.

"No," he said stubbornly, turning away. "Quit with your questions."

I touched his shoulder, and he flinched away from me. I hesitated. I'd never seen my angel this tense.

"Angel-"

He wheeled around and got in my face, yelling. "Did you even listen to me, child? It's not your business! It's my life! I don't have to tell you or show you anything!"

"But how can it be that ba-" He covered my mouth. I traced the edges of the mask, and he relaxed a little, still breathing heavily. He slowly took his hand away from my mouth, and I slowly pulled the mask away.

He knocked it out of my hand, clearly panicking, and shoved me back, crouching in fear. I backed up slowly, scared.

"How COULD YOU? You betrayed me!" He yelled, then screamed so loudly the ceiling shook. Both of us were tense. I slowly went for the mask and handed it back to him. He put it back on silently.

"I'm sorry," I said.

He took me back to my room in utter, oppressive silence, and left without saying a word. Meg found me crying on my bed, still in my dusty pajamas, hours later.

８

He traced the line Christine's finger had traced along his mask, crying. He stuck his head in a blanket, remembering the canvas bag he'd been allowed to wear between brutal mockings and beatings. That was so long ago, he wished he would have just forgotten about it, but Christine just yanking his mask off brought it all back.

He thought he could trust her. Well, now she'd probably never want to see or touch him again. It would be so easy for her to just slip back into their old relationship of singing together through walls, but he wanted more. And now he could never have it.

Speaking of reasons to be violently angry, there was someone who needed a good dose of the Phantom's wrath. Somebody who forgot to pay the bills.

_Foolish idiots,_

_Why have you neglected my monthly payment? This is the one thing I asked you to do. Now I want you to pay me for this month and last month, and also remove Carlotta the freak from the lead role. She may play the page and Christine the lead. _

_If you ignore me there will surely be dire consequences. This is your last warning. _

_The Phantom of the Opera_

８

"Christine? Get up! Haven't you heard?" Meg demanded. "You're being cast in the leading role. There was another note."

"Note? What are you talking about?" I asked, confused.

"Seriously, are you that out of it? From the Phantom!"

The phantom. My angel. I'd forgotten about that note.

"Meg, the first note literally had nothing to do with me." I was actually low-key mad that I hadn't heard from him in like three days but he'd managed to write another note about money stuff. That was more fun than me now? Really?

"Well, this one says you're getting the lead role or bad things will happen."

But I literally could not pull off the lead role, not with my music teacher just off having a grumpy fit and writing notes to other people. It was nice to know I was still on his mind.

"He can't make me," I told Meg.

Meg stared at me. "Christine, you're in the lead role. We're rehearsing _now_. Do you want to be fired? Come! In your nightgown, I don't even care."

I let her drag me to practice, but I could hear every little thing I did wrong that Carlotta could've nailed effortlessly. I felt like a total failure. I could hear my Angel's corrections in my head, but they only made me feel worse today. I sucked and I knew it. Of course I sucked, who could sing well when they were this stressed? My voice wasn't relaxed and everybody could hear it and Carlotta looked horribly smug.

I had to walk through everybody backstage and listen to them griping about various things. Everything from itchy costumes to the note and my recasting came up. A guy with a beard, one of the tenors I think, made rude comments about the Phantom.

I snapped at him, and he tried to grab my boob, so I kicked him where one does and he shut up. Nobody else messed with me. I escaped to my room in tears.

There was a faint, haunting trace of the Phantom singing sadly, but he stopped the instant he heard me, and I almost wondered if it was my imagination after all. He'd have plenty of opportunity to hear me sing, with me in the lead role, and apparently I didn't get to hear him sing at all.

８

Two days before our first performance, he appeared in the mirror again, red-eyed and withdrawn.

"We need to get you ready. You're terrible," he said bluntly.

I resisted the equally powerful urges to punch or hug him.

"Where've you been? I missed you. Of course I sound awful," I retorted.

"Don't lie to me," he said in a muffled voice. "Follow me."

I threw on a pair of old tennis shoes and followed him. I did nothing but practice and sleep the next two days. I ate, slept, and breathed music.

When I returned to the surface, everyone was worried about me, and Carlotta had taken over as the lead. I felt disappointed missing it after all that practice, but I still knew the other role and I would sing it amazingly if that was all they'd let me do.

Everything was going according to plan until Carlotta took a sip of her special water in between scenes and started to sing like an actual frog. I think if I'd been calmer, I would have thought it was funny, but I really wanted the production to go well even if I wasn't taking the lead role.

The crowds yelled for me to play the lead, which was embarrassing. I was briefly contemplating my sudden stage fright when I felt a hand on my shoulder, and heard my angel's whisper.

"You can do this, Christine. Remember what we practiced."

When I turned around, he was gone. I didn't have time to think, I just got up on that stage and sang my heart out. It was nice to express some of my pent-up emotions, but when I got done, I was exhausted.

After the bows, I let the crowd get ahead of me, not eager to fight my way through the backstage room yet. There were shrieks of horror. When I finally managed to peek in, I saw the bearded singer hanging from the rafters. It looked like it could've been an accident, but I knew it wasn't. My stomach sank and I turned the other way and disappeared into the crowd of confused audience members, half of whom were trying to leave and half trying to get closer to the stage to find out what was happening.

Raoul caught my arm.

"Come to dinner with me," he said.

"Yeah, let's go," I said, letting him steer me out of the opera and into his waiting carriage.

"I can't believe I finally went to see you and you immediately became famous," Raoul said. "I guess I'm your good luck charm, huh?"

Really? The Phantom and I worked so hard for this and Raoul wanted the credit? No thanks.

But I smiled faintly at him and went back to picking at my hangnails.

"Christine? I saw you go backstage. What was that back there?"

I took a deep breath. "It was a guy."

"Seriously? Just a guy?" Raoul was incredulous. I couldn't bring myself to explain any further, and the rest of the drive was long and awkward.

As soon as we sat down at the table, he started saying he loved me. Right about when I'd had enough, he popped open a ring box.

"Will you marry me?" he asked, getting on one knee on the restaurant floor. I rubbed my hand over my face. I'd just seen my first ever dead person, a murder victim, murdered by somebody I know and love, and Raoul had to go and propose.

The waiter brought the food halfway over and then saw Raoul and backed off. I was so exhausted. I'd just wanted a chance to get away from the opera for a few hours, not a proposal.

"I'm too tired," I told Raoul.

"To marry me?" he asked in confusion. "I didn't mean tonight."

"Well, I'm too tired," I said incoherently.

He looked so confused and puppy-eyed. I started laughing, which I'm sure is the worst possible thing I could have done. He looked at me like I'd freaking murdered him.

"Christine, my heart is kind of on the line here," Raoul said. He moved to get up and then changed his mind. "Can you just answer the question?"

"No."

"No you won't marry me or no you won't answer the question?"

"No I will not become engaged to you tonight," I said. "Let's just eat our food, okay?"

Raoul got back in his seat, which I was grateful for.

"You used to be so cute and innocent and helpless," he griped. "Now it's like you're some snarky man who thinks he's so hot."

I giggled helplessly. "I'm so sorry you're gay for me, Raoul."

Raoul made a face. Then even he finally started laughing.

"OK, I'm not gay, Christine."

We ate our food, me laughing sporadically and Raoul trying not to smile. We shared a dessert, white chocolate raspberry cheesecake, and then he tried to lean in for a kiss, but I turned at the last second so he kissed my cheek.

"Come on, Christine, just one kiss?"

I gave him a quick peck on the lips and he drove me back to the opera. I went straight to my room without saying goodbye and curled up to sleep with a finger on my lips, remembering.

８

_You have made your last mistake, sirs. Tonight was a warning. If you do not heed it, you will not live to regret it. _

_Yours,_

_POTO_

The note soothed some of his burning anger, but not all. That foolish young man had taken Christine out of the opera before he even had a chance to stop them, and by all signs kissed her. Her first kiss. As soon as she was asleep, he carried her down to his lair and blocked the way out. She would not leave again without his permission.

８

I woke up in the Phantom's lair again. I jolted upright, terrified somehow that he'd brought me here to kill me. I wasn't sure how much reason he thought he had to be mad at me. I was sure he knew I'd gone out with Raoul, but how angry he'd be- I had no idea.

I found him singing and stayed hidden behind a wall. He sounded halfway between despondent and full of rage.

We had so much history together. Of course I cared about him, but he just killed a dude. That changes things.

Eventually he stopped singing at the piano and caught me listening. He was silent and still for a long, tense moment. I was painfully aware that he was only two feet away from me and could stab me at any moment. Hopefully that wasn't his style. But if I was to get away alive, it would probably have to be because he didn't want to kill me.

When I averted my eyes, he stalked past me and disappeared into the darkness without a word.

I needed to decide how I felt about this, or I'd never be able to communicate it and would probably say something stupid and regret it. I _wanted_ to just go and ask him why he killed the guy, but that would really not help and he'd probably be mad and maybe kill me. OK, so if he actually wanted to kill me, I'd probably be dead. But what if he changed his mind?

I went and sat at the piano where he'd been and rested my fingers on the keys thoughtfully. I didn't know any more piano than I needed to tune my singing. It sounded beautiful when my Angel played, though.

I plinked around a bit and then picked out a melody on the piano, just one that popped into my head. I didn't recognise it until I realized it was what he'd just been singing.

Did we have to still be in tune like that, even after he decided to publically murder someone?

I heard him join in, softly at first. I hesitated, but then kept playing. If he wanted to have this conversation through a wall, maybe that was best.

"_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Anywhere you go, let me go too. Christine, I love you."_

I didn't know what to say to that. I just kept playing and tried not to stumble over the keys too much.

"Sing with me," my Angel pleaded.

When I didn't sing, he continued, still quiet but letting me hear the fire in his voice.

"_I gave you your music, made your song take wing. And now how you've repaid me, denied me and betrayed me. He was bound to love you when he heard you sing. Christine…"_

I stopped playing.

"Phantom, I- I love you, but you killed a man. I'm still pretty freaked out about that. I let Raoul take me to dinner to get away from you, away from here. There's nothing between him and me. He thinks he loves me, that's all."

"Then why would you leave me for him? Is it because his face is pretty?" the Phantom snarled.

I huffed. "Will you stop going on about his stupid face. Do you know what he did last night? I was all upset, because, oh, some guy _died_ and I saw his _dead body_ hanging up backstage, and Raoul knew I was upset, so apparently he decided that was a good time to propose to me! We've known each other for two days since we were like five and ten. He's an idiot. And you're barely better, trying to get me to sing that I love you and I'll stay with you forever after YOU JUST MURDERED SOMEBODY!" I slammed my fist down on the piano.

"DON'T HIT MY PIANO!" the Phantom shrieked, running into the room and yanking me away from it.

"That thing was expensive! Are you an idiot?"

I struggled in his arms. "Let me go. I won't hit it again. I'm sorry!"

He let me go, and I turned to face him. We were both breathing hard, inches from each other's faces. I stepped back slightly.

"Why did you kill him?" I asked.

He touched my cheek, and I didn't stop him.

"Answer the question," I insisted.

"You know why I killed him. You were there," he said.

"What he did was wrong, but it didn't mean you had to kill him."

"He threatened you and insulted me! What else is there I could possibly be angry about?!"

I took a deep breath.

"I know, and he scared me, but I really didn't need you to be a murderer."

"He's not the first man I've killed," he said, turning away.

I couldn't let him just give up on both of us like that.

"People can change," I said.

"You really believe that?"

"I do," I said.

"Well, I won't. You can't change a face like mine. Admit it, Christine, you don't love me."

"Your face is not even that bad."

"Are you trying to be ridiculous?"

"Take it off, then," I told him. "See if I'm being ridiculous."

"I'm ugly under this mask. If you see it again, you won't love me."

"Just try," I pleaded gently. "Angel, I was wrong to take it off before when you told me not to. It has to be you that takes off the mask. I never meant to scare you like that. I'm sorry."

He took the mask off, slowly, hesitantly, still facing away from me, but didn't turn around.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. Little drops of something wet fell on my hands, and I realized he was crying. I let my cheek rest on the back of his shoulder.

"You're too sweet and innocent," he said. "You can't love me when I look like this."

I stroked his good cheek with the pad of my thumb.

"Christine?"

"Yeah?"

He choked back a sob and turned around, slowly. I kissed his good cheek.

"It's just a big birthmark," I whispered.

He put the mask back on. I tucked his hair behind his ear and he gave me a scared smile.

"Christine, I have something to tell you."

I searched his eyes. "What?"

"I have a name." He started crying again, and that made me cry.

He leaned in and kissed me instead of telling me his name.

I never wanted to stop kissing him, even though I knew he'd murdered people, which was still kind of freaking me out. He pulled away first.

"Mm, Christine," he said, and bent like he was going to kiss my neck. I put my hand on his chest to stop him.

"Hey. You were gonna tell me your name," I reminded him.

"Eric."

_Now can we have sex?_ his eyes were saying.

"I'm not that easy," I told him. "Slow things down. And try not to kill anybody; it's creepy."

He scowled. "Why do you care if I kill people?"

"Because it's wrong and scary and I don't like it," I said.

"All governments kill to prove their strength. If they won't pay me my dues, I have the right to make them," he insisted.

"Because you do what? Skulk around silently and kill people and seduce young maidens? Or no, my mistake, you prefer building roads and punishing evildoers, don't you? You're so misunderstood."

Eric smacked me so hard I stumbled and saw stars.

As soon as I got up I shoved him right back, which made my head hurt really badly, and then I tried to find the boat. It wasn't there.

"You're not leaving," he told me.

"My head hurts. I need to go lie down," I told him. "You need to go learn to control yourself."

"You think you can speak to me that way?"

"Ugh, what's wrong with you?" I asked. "Eric, leave me alone. I just need to go to bed. G'night."

He crossed his arms. "I'm not letting you go back until you promise you won't run away with this Raoul guy."

"Screw yourself. I'll swim it," I said, like an idiot.

I got up to my thighs in nasty-smelling greenish sewage water before I realized this was a really bad plan. I felt lightheaded and wanted to puke. I tried to climb back up but couldn't get out of the water.

"Help?"

He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but then changed his mind and helped me out of the sludge. I puked all over his arms, but he just calmly took off his jacket.

He set me down gently and went and got the boat from somewhere.

"I'll take you back to the surface," he said. "You should have them call a doctor."

"Am I dying?" I asked, scared.

"No," Erik said gently. He touched my cheek. "You have a concussion. You need to rest."

"Is that why my head feels so weird?"

"Yes."

He scooped me up and set me in the boat, then had to search for the pole for a second. I tried to convince myself I wasn't going to faint.

Maybe I did faint. I couldn't remember any of the boat ride later. All I remembered was Eric setting me down somewhere and disappearing.

Meg came around the corner right then (more evidence of Eric's ninja skills).

"Christine, ohmygoodness, where have you been?" Meg asked. "What happened to your head? Are you okay?"

"The Phantom smacked me," I said, feeling a little out of it. "He says I have a concussion."

Meg just stared at me incredulously. "What?"

"We're sort of a thing now," I added.

"Christine," Meg said worriedly. "You hit your head. Maybe that's all this is."

"He's not made up!" I insisted loudly, which made my head hurt, but I was hellbent on defending Eric's existence.

"I know the Phantom isn't made up," Meg said. "And if you tell the same story when you're feeling well, I'll believe you, but- I really hope it's that goose egg on your head talking."

"It's not my head."

"Christine, you need to rest. If your concussion doesn't heal it could mess with your singing."

"Well, you never believed me about him," I said. Meg tried to get me to walk with her and I stumbled and face planted.

"Owww."

"I'm getting Mom. Don't move," Meg said. "And don't you fall asleep on me."

Eric sneaked back around the corner as soon as Meg was gone.

I struggled to get up and managed to sort of sit against a wall. He helped me adjust myself and then handed me a booklet.

"For when you can read again," he said shyly. "I'm sorry I hit you."

"Why doesn't Meg believe me?" I whispered.

"I think she's hoping you're not really dating me," he said sadly. "You're the only person that likes me."

"Is that really true?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Do you ever do anything nice for anybody else though?"

"No. I don't like people," Eric said. "They're mean to me."

"They're scared of you," I explained. "You're mysterious and scary and you kill people. That doesn't help."

"It makes them pay attention to me," he said coldly.

I stayed silent.

"Fine, it's not the greatest thing. But do you really think people would like me if I started being nice?"

"It's worth trying," I insisted. "Maybe start small. Meg's always believed in you. Go say hi sometime. Just don't be creepy about it."

"I guess she's never said anything super mean about me," he admitted. "How do I be nice though?"

I groaned. "Look, maybe I can teach you this stuff later. My head is spinning."

He vanished. At first I thought that was just his idea of "Ok, sure, see you later," but then I heard Meg and Madame Giry coming down the hallway. Of course with the running away from people. Sigh.

８

After a few days, Meg and Mme. Giry had decided to believe my story. There was another note requesting that I sing the main female role in Don Juan, which turned out to be the booklet Eric had handed me. Carlotta had quit the Opera in disgust, and none of the singers wanted her back, although I guess the managers were throwing a fit, and her mom (Carlotta is 32 for reference) came over almost every day and yelled at random people.

Don Juan was somewhat steamy, and the girl wasn't treated terribly nicely, which worried me. I wasn't quite sure why the Phantom had wanted me to sing in it. Everything stayed PG13 onstage, though, so I was okay with it.

Raoul had come to the Opera house just to hang out a few times, but I hadn't seen much of him. It didn't occur to me until later that Mme. Giry was probably setting aside his deluge of flowers and love notes so I could heal from my concussion. Eric I saw nothing of all week.

The day came that I was feeling up to performing, and the managers were eager to get Don Juan rolling. We'd practiced and practiced, and I still didn't love it, but I didn't hate it either. I'd gotten in my character's head and I was ready to tell her story.

I was halfway through the scene with Piangi when instead of him coming out onto the stage, it was a much slimmer man. I wondered briefly what had happened to Piangi and if his replacement was going to mess up his lines, if our chemistry would be the same.

Then the substitute opened his mouth and I realized it was Eric. Head covered by a dark hood, he had no need to hide backstage. I fought to stay in character.

Eric- was not in character. He was singing from his heart, and I do have to say it _worked_, but I couldn't just respond as me. My character was kind of ditzy and airheaded, and trying to work out our issues onstage would've jarred the audience badly. I had to continue in my role as the attractive, fair marshmallow while he made suggestive comments that would've made a brick blush.

I didn't see the bit part peacock character coming onstage behind us off cue until he'd already sneaked up behind Eric and yanked off his mask. I had to think fast.

８

It was finally here- his chance to tell Christine what he'd always wanted to tell her. To make her an offer he couldn't refuse. She wasn't responding like he'd hoped, electing to stay in character and stick to her lines. Lines _he'd_ given her to say, which was a rush. But still disappointing.

He was aware in the back of his mind of an actor sneaking up from behind at the wrong time, but Christine was looking him right in the eyes and smiling, making it very hard to think straight. By the time they pulled off his mask, it was too late. His face was exposed to the entire stage for one brief second before Christine grabbed his face and kissed him an inch away from his lips, hair hiding everyone's view. She was completely off script, but then they all were now.

The peacock leaped offstage and disappeared into the audience, shedding his disguise as he went. He snapped the mask in half (it was a cheap prop, not Eric's everyday mask, at least) and threw the pieces under someone's chair.

Christine pulled his hood down and led him backstage, where Piangi was tied up and gagged.

"What now?" she hissed. The roar of the audience was getting louder. He could hear the vicomte de Chagny trying to tell everyone that the Phantom had Christine, that he had the face of a devil and lived under the opera. Fantastic.

The chandelier was waiting for him to cut it free, his backup plan if Christine had rejected and betrayed him, and he supposed it would do now. He cut the rope loose and grabbed it, pulling himself and Christine up a few floors as the chandelier fell. He yanked her after him to safety, ignoring her crying and talking, and tried to stay ahead of the small crowd of tipsy young men following Raoul into the catacombs. The opera house was on fire, and there was a lot of screaming and running.

When they were deep enough that he felt safer and could hear Christine over the blood pounding in his ears, she was saying something about saving Piangi.

"Eric, it's not his fault, and he'll burn if we leave him."

"_I'll_ burn if your hotheaded boyfriend catches us," he retorted. "Or did you not know he's got all his sympathizers riled up to kill me?"

"I won't let them," Christine said. So brave and so naive.

He cupped her cheek. "You can't stop them. We have to hide. Stay here with me- forever."

"I can't."

His heart broke. Crashes sounded too close to them, but to Eric they sounded a million miles away. Christine was rejecting him; nothing could be real.

８

Raoul broke through the ceiling with several other guys. They all had improvised weapons and torches.

"Stop," I said as firmly as possible. "He-" I thought desperately, trying to come up with anything that would work. _'He'll kill me if you try to take me?' No that would just get him killed faster. 'Leave him alone, we're in love?' Same problem. _

"Christine, I'm here to save you," Raoul said.

I rolled my eyes. "So you can force me to marry you instead?"

"Is that what he tried to do?" Raoul asked, looking so disgustedly at Eric.

"No, he doesn't need to," I snapped. "If he didn't feel the need to live in a sewer and regularly murder people, I'd have married him yesterday."

"But you don't want to live in a sewer with horrible ugly monster who wants to control you," Raoul said gently.

I pulled Eric's arm around me, ignoring his cute little shocked gasp. "I don't see any ugly monsters here," I told Raoul, eyes narrowed. "I see a bunch of drunken idiots who want to kill my lover just because he's not rich and handsome."

"She's lost her mind to its clutches," Raoul yelled, pulling me out of Eric's arms and into his own. Someone stabbed my Angel in the chest with a candlestick holder, and I yanked away from Raoul and covered Eric's dying body with my own.

"You killed him," I wailed. I gave him one last kiss before his eyes closed and his pale, shaking body went still.

８

"Dude, she's in love with him," one of the guys said, and most of them left. He was vaguely aware of Christine hugging him and sobbing and Raoul trying to convince her to leave with him.

In the end, she was yanked away, and he fell into blackness.

８

Raoul brought me back to his brother Phillippe's house. I guess Phillippe was okay, but I still hated Raoul's guts. He hadn't technically been the one to kill my Eric, but he got him killed.

It had only been a week and a half when Raoul proposed to me again. I'd eaten his chocolates, torn up his love notes and fed his roses to the cows, but he remained undissuaded that I was to marry him.

I stepped up my game. I wore riding breeches all the time, muddied my face, and went around with half of it covered by a mask I'd made from one of his sisters' sashes. Phillippe was horrified at first but then decided it was funny.

When I found myself in the barn trying feebly to shove Raoul away, with his tongue down my throat, I realized he was going to marry me regardless of my wishes. I set the date for April 1st, then when he realized what I'd done, offered to move it up several months to a Friday the 13th.

I got away with it. But when I destroyed the expensive wedding gown I'd taken months to choose by falling off my horse into a mud puddle while wearing it- and then tearing it with my teeth on purpose while I thought no one was looking, he apparently decided I was too young and wild to help plan my own wedding.

I cooperated with none of it. I let him deal with the whole thing by himself. The night before the wedding, he drugged me. I fell asleep at the dinner table, and when I came to, I was sleepy and euphoric and oblivious and wearing a wedding gown. For some reason I thought we were acting in Don Juan and kept trying to say my lines. I couldn't understand what was going on.

"Say I do," Raoul kept telling me. "They think you don't want to marry me."

"Piangi, that's not your line," I whispered.

The Phantom's voice drifted past my ear out of nowhere. _Say you won't marry him._

I was too out of it to question him.

"I won't marry you, Don Juan," I said loudly, voice projecting and everything. I was so proud of myself.

"You can see she's confused," Raoul argued.

Meg stood up. "Then don't let her get married," she said. "Besides-"

The crowd hushed. I still don't know how Meg made them do that.

"She's in love with another. Someone we all think we know, but only few do. Someone many girls would never consider because of his disability."

Eric walked to the front of the stage. I gasped and ran forward to kiss him.

"Someone she thought was dead because of the misdeeds of none other than the vicomte de Chagny."

The crowd gasped. Lots of people were standing up and arguing loudly. It became too much and I fainted in Eric's arms.

The Girys took me home. Meg tried to explain a lot of things to me, but nothing made sense.

８

He was too tired to fight when Mme. Giry and Meg carried him back to the surface. Mme. Giry seemed pretty upset about the wound in his chest, but it healed up. Eric was more worried about the rumors that Raoul was marrying his beloved baby angel against her will. After everything she'd said to Raoul and the other guys down in the catacombs, he was even more sure than ever that she could learn to love him.

Crashing the wedding was Meg's bright idea. She was sure she could win the guests over. Eric doubted it, but he decided it was worth possibly dying to get to see Christine again and have that last tiny chance that she'd choose him over the vicomte.

What happened was even better than his wildest hopes. She'd kissed him in front of the whole crowd, Meg talked them all out of killing him, and nobody was marrying Raoul.

Christine kept hugging him and cuddling him, but he took that with a grain of salt since she was clearly drugged.

８

Meg had to wait until Christine came out of her drugged stupor before she could explain anything properly.

Finally Christine woke up clear-headed.

"Are you really awake and coherent this time?" she demanded.

"I think so. What happened? Did I marry Raoul already?"

"Nope," Meg told her, grinning. "We crashed the wedding. Me and Mom and guess who else?"

"Piangi?" Christine asked in confusion.

"He didn't make it out of the fire," Meg explained. "Guess again."

"Who was it? I thought I dreamed that Eric was there, but he's dead in the catacombs."

Eric appeared in the doorway.

"How are you alive?" Christine asked joyfully, jumping up and kissing him on the cheek. He held her gently, smiling like he was holding a piece of heaven in his arms.

"I didn't die. Mme. Giry found me. Do you want to see my scar?"

Meg facepalmed.

"Get a room. I don't need to see your sweaty chest hair again," she complained.

As usual, nobody listened to Meg. She saw herself out but lingered just outside the door.

_"Will you marry me?" _ Christine asked.

There were kissing noises and then the dull thud of someone's knee on the wooden floor. Eric had no time to say anything before Christinw was squealing yes so loudly all of Paris could probably hear it.

８

Epilogue

Christine and Eric were preparing for their wedding when Philippe de Chagny decided to visit. He'd heard that they were soon to be married and came to apologize for his brother's behavior and offer his congratulations in the form of a small piece of property out on the country where no one would bother them.

"Small," of course, turned out to be rather larger than Eric and Christine were expecting. The property came with a mansion and several horses and other animals.

And about ten months later, another happy surprise joined the family. She had Christine's eyes and the Phantom's dramatic flair. Whether she would be equally a lover of music remained to be seen.

The End.


End file.
